Who's Got Mail?
by A Who Down in Whoville
Summary: AU AU AU - Rose Tyler owns a little children's book shop. John Wolfe owns a massive chain of mega bookstores. In real life, they despise each other, but in the cyber world, they just might be in love. Re-telling of "You've Got Mail". Ten/Rose
1. Chapter 1

**Who's Got Mail**  
**Chapter 1 of 2**

Author's Note: This is AU. This is AU. This is AU. (Some people don't like AU.)

Rose Tyler was a shop girl. Her grandparents had bought a small book shop in Notting Hill before the neighbourhood was posh and trendy. Her mother and father had worked there before Rose was born, in fact, that is where they met. Dad kept the accounts, and Mum worked the counter.

When Rose was but an infant, her father had been struck by an out of control vehicle. He died leaving a widow, a baby girl and the book shop. Instead of selling the shop as she had been advised, her mother decided to run it herself. She changed it from a general purpose book shop into one which specialized in children's books, transforming it into someplace not only special, but perhaps a bit magical. People came from far and wide to the little shop for book readings, to meet authors and to see the lovely window displays. As Rose grew older, she spent most of her free time in the shop. But then one horrible day, she lost her beloved mum as well, and she was left all alone.

Rose had to leave school without getting her A levels, even though she was bright and destined for big things. She obtained a rather good for nothing boyfriend, a would-be author by the name of Jimmy Stone. He was a bit older, and had charmed Rose. Jimmy showed early promise, and his first novel was at the age of eighteen. Unfortunately, since then, he had been in a bit of a slump, writer's block he said, for the past three years. But Rose didn't have the guts to throw him out. Whenever she threatened to toss him, he would turn on the charm, gain her sympathy, and remind her that he was surprisingly well connected within the London literary scene. "My next novel is on my fingertips, I can feel it Rose," he would say.

Her mother had also hired a wonderful woman to keep the business accounts, Sarah Jane Smith. She was the friendliest, kindest, smartest woman that Rose knew, but was a bit of a mystery to her as well.

Rose's best friend, Mickey Smith, worked there stocking shelves and sometimes helping behind the counter. A bubbly, outgoing, artistic girl, Lynda Moss, was then taken on to keep the tradition of their renown window displays alive.

It was a pleasant place to be day in and day out, same old same old. Owning the shop was rather like wearing a comfortable old cardigan on a rainy day, or your favourite pair of shoes when you go for a long walk in the country. It was Rose's life. She really didn't have anything else. The people who worked there were her family. The customers were her friends. The only bit of excitement in her life, other than her squabbling with Jimmy, was her online friendship with a mysterious man whose online ID was Doctor10. They had never met in person, nor did they plan to.

oOo

"Rose dear, which way did you come into work this morning?" Sarah Jane asked as she walked through the front door of the lovely little bookstore, The Shop Around the Corner.

"Just the same old way I always come, took my regular bus. Why?" Rose asked, seeing the odd look on her friend's face. "What Sarah Jane?"

"You know the old Henrik's ruin?" she asked, fiddling with her fingernails.

"Course I do! I saw it blow up, remember?" Rose replied. Sarah Jane stared at her. "Will you just spit it out?" asked Rose with a hitching laugh.

"Well, there are big fancy signs posted around the block announcing that a brand new Wolfe's Books . . . In fact it will be their brand new flagship store . . . is under construction, and will be opening late winter." Sarah Jane Smith looked around the small children's book shop with fondness, knowing that this news could be the final nail in the coffin of the struggling business.

Rose Tyler leaned over onto the ancient wooden counter and propped her chin in her hands with a sigh.

"It'll be okay, Rose, you'll see. We've always been able to pull through before, and we'll do it again. We'll adapt! Maybe we can . . . open an espresso bar for the grown ups! They can sit and chat while the children look at books! Or we could . . . start selling more books for young adults. Vampires are awfully popular these days," Sarah Jane said kindly, knowing she was lying through her teeth. She handled the accounts. She projected they could stay afloat for five, six more months at the most, even with the increased sales of November and December that heralded the Christmas and holiday gift giving season.

"I am not going to bow to pressure and sell books written for adults which are marketed to children! Mum would roll in her grave!" Rose said steadfastly. She looked at the spooky but not scary Halloween display that Lynda had finished yesterday. "There will be no sparkly vampires in this shop!"

"Just this morning I heard John Wolfe, the smug git, on the_ Reinette Radio Show_. He had the gall to say that Wolfe's Books is singlehandedly responsible for revitalising reading as a leisure activity. He actually said he had brought back book reading from extinction," Lynda said angrily, joining in on the conversation, speaking loudly from the front of the store.

"No! He said that? As if people had stopped reading! People in _our_ circles never stopped reading. Maybe the sort of people he associates with have stopped reading," said Rose proudly.

"You mean soulless blood sucking vampires?" offered Sarah Jane with a pleased look of smugness on her face.

"Y'know, I think I saw a vampire last night outside of my flat," said Mickey as he arranged a pyramid shape of train-themed storybooks on a circular table. The display didn't hold, and the books fell like a house of cards, so he started his structure again.

"Mickey, you did not see a vampire. Last week you thought you saw a werewolf, and the week before, you thought you saw an evil robot!" said Rose with a smirk.

"Not a robot, Rose, oh, no! It was a cyberman!" Mickey said seriously with a nod. "Some poor sod had his brain cut right outta 'is 'ead an' probably never even saw it comin'." He shook his head sadly.

"Right," drawled Rose as she rolled her eyes.

Mickey and Lynda returned to their duties and Rose leaned close to Sarah Jane.

"Doctor10 emailed me again last night," said Rose.

"He did? What did he say?"

"He asked for advice about his business. He's afraid he's expanding too quickly." Rose took a bite of her apple.

"Has he ever told you what business he is in?" Sarah Jane asked.

"Nope, and I told him not to. We are committed to keeping our communication completely anonymous," said Rose with resolve.

"Be careful Rose. There are a lot of weirdos out there. He could be married, or lying or-"

"Or he could be an axe murderer!" added Mickey, interrupting Sarah Jane.

"Or he could be . . . Wills! I'll bet it is Prince William, and he planning on overthrowing the Queen! Expanding his business is just a euphemism," said Lynda breathlessly.

"Right," drawled Rose. "I've got an online friendship with Prince William."

The little bell on the entry door sounded merrily and a handsome man with two children entered. Sarah Jane nudged Rose with her elbow and inclined her head in his direction. Rose rolled her eyes. Her friends were constantly trying to get Rose to end it with longtime no-good boyfriend, Jimmy-with-the-Roving Eye.

"Go on, find some things," the man prompted the children with a grin, and the two children were quickly off, exploring the shelves. The dark-haired boy with curly hair found a picture book about space pirates, dropped down onto the carpet and thumbed through it hungrily, his tongue out of his mouth. The serious ginger-haired girl with glasses was more methodical as she carefully pulled one book off of the shelf at a time, looking for just the right title in the classics and literature section.

"Good morning, may I help you find something?" Rose cheerfully asked the man as he approached the counter.

"Naw, I'll just let them pick. They know what they want. Could be a while though. You have a chair for this old man to rest his legs?" he joked.

"Your children are picky then?" she joked.

"Nope, not mine." He said, shaking his head.

"Not picky?" she said with a laugh.

"Nope, not my _children_, and _yes_, they _are_ picky. Well," he drawled, "not picky so much as . . . discerning. Books are integral to their lives, always have been. In fact, the love of books goes back generations in my family," he said proudly, pushing his sexy specs up his nose. "I'm babysitting. They belong to my half-sister Donna." John turned and pointed towards the back of the shop. "That ragamuffin is Ian." He then turned his attention towards the juvenile classics section. "And over there, is the lovely and brilliant Barbara. I suppose I am really their half-uncle, but that just sounds silly, so Uncle John it is."

"Did you hear that Sarah Jane?" called Rose back into the business office. "A family that values books! I told you reading never died out as a pastime. You know what she heard on the radio this morning on that awful Reinette show?" said Rose, pointing at Sarah Jane with her thumb.

"What?" John asked, rather entranced by the pink and yellow girl behind the counter of the charming little book shop.

"She heard the owner of Wolfe's Books say that his store has saved reading from extinction. Imagine that! Extinction! Like he's the Greek god of books or something." Rose rolled her eyes.

The man smirked a bit. "Well, if you put it _that_ way, I can see-"

"And now he's opening up one of his . . . his mega-monstrous temples to . . . to the almighty pound around the corner from me!" Rose was fuming now.

"And this is bad because . . . ?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"This book shop was opened before the War. It survived The Blitz. My grandparents bought it, and they left it to my parents. But when I was a baby, Dad died, and Mum took it over and made a go of it all on her own until I lost her too. It has been a thriving business for years and years but now . . . now I'm afraid we're gonna go out of business. We just can't compete with the likes of Wolfe's."

"But isn't it good that people are reading? That they are starting book clubs and meeting someplace cheerful and safe? And kids are excited about reading? Begging their parents to get them books?" he asked earnestly.

"Yeah, I guess so. Just jealous, I suppose," she said, defeated.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" he said kindly, seeing the sad look in her eyes.

"Hey Uncle John, can we get these?" said the boy carrying a large stack of books. The girl trailed behind. She pressed a single, beautifully bound volume to her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"Of course Ian!" he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Like I was saying to this charming lady, books are our life!"

The boy hefted the pile onto the counter, and the girl daintily placed hers on the top of the stack.

"Anne of Green Gables," Rose said with a sigh. "Lovely choice young lady. Every girl should read this one."

"I've been waiting to read it until I could find a pretty copy, and yours was the prettiest I have found," she replied quietly, as she tucked herself under her uncle's arm.

"And let's see what we have here. Very exciting choices! You have pirates and space aliens, robots, rocket ships and the solar system. Outstanding!" said Rose to the gregarious boy.

"Uncle John loves science fiction stuff, too." Ian looked up at his uncle, and pulled the man's head down to his mouth. "Ask her to lunch, she likes books and she's pretty and nice, not like you know who," he whispered loudly.

"Ian," John said a bit sternly, correcting the boy.

Rose blushed, hearing the boy's words while she rang up the sale. "That will be one hundred sixty-two pound fifty, please."

The man pulled four fifty pound notes from his expensive Italian leather wallet.

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I don't know that I have that much change. Not many people pay cash anymore."

"Awww, don't worry about it. Consider it a . . . donation to the health of your business."

"Oh, I couldn't do that!" protested Rose shaking her head.

"How about you buy me coffee then?" he asked flirtatiously, leaning on the counter. "Or better yet, how about dinner?"

Rose's mouth gaped open for a moment, as she actually considered the offer for a minute. "I . . . I can't. I have . . ." She shook her blonde head and bit her lip. "It's complicated."

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes dramatically and flapped her hand at Rose. "It's not that complicated, Rose!" she yelled from the business office doorway.

Rose turned and smirked at her friend.

"Well, if anyone understands complicated, it's me. I'm sorry to have embarrassed you." He was obviously disappointed.

"Oh, no, that's not it at all, really, well . . . to be honest, I have, sort of a . . . boyfriend." She blushed.

"_Sort of_ a boyfriend is right!" interjected Lynda loudly from the front of the store. "He's a good for nothing lazy git. Doesn't value Rose, treats her like rubbish, and he's a sponge."

"Preach it Lynda!" Mickey high-fived his friend.

"My friends seem to think it is their _business_ to manage my personal life," said Rose, far too loudly.

"Well, I don't feel so badly then. I was feeling rather rejected there for a moment. Goodbye then, perhaps I'll see you around the neighbourhood." He hefted the heavy paper shopping bag off of the counter and left. Ten seconds later, he popped his head through the open shop door. "Oh! Didn't know if you noticed, it's almost lunch time! Want to join us for fish and chips?"

"Well . . . I suppose, uh . . . Oh what have I got to lose?" she asked herself out loud.

Sarah Jane smiled. "Nothing, Rose, you have _nothing_ to lose."

"Exactly!" Rose grinned broadly as she left the shop, zipping up her hoodie sweatshirt against the crisp mid-October air.

"So your friends back in the shop called you Rose," John observed.

"Meddling friends, more like it. But yeah, Rose. Rose Tyler, and as you may have guessed, I own the Shop Around the Corner, well at least for a few more months." She stopped and looked across the street at the newly set up construction site of Wolfe's Books, sighing resignedly. "So what do you do, John, when you aren't babysitting your half niece and nephew?" she asked with a grin.

"He owns-"

John rudely covered up Ian's mouth with his hand.

"I am . . . the president of a . . . company that sells . . . _things_."

"Things, huh? What sort of things?" she asked her eyebrows raised, teasingly, looking down at Ian.

"Oh, this 'n that. Whatsits and whosits, and I do a bit of jiggery pokery from time to time as well."

Rose's mobile chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket, looked at it, and sighed. "The boyfriend," she said with a bit of a frown. "Hi Jimmy . . . Tonight? Awww, do I have to? You know how I hate going to those things. I never know what to say, and all of those posh people . . . {sigh} . . . Yeah, I guess so. I'll see you at seven." She thumbed a button, ending the call.

"Why do you stay with him?" John asked pointedly. "Everyone in your shop seems to think he isn't worth your time. Why stick with him?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she replied half laughing, but definitely serious. "But, well, he was there when Mum died, and I guess he sort of payed attention to me and . . . to be honest, I don't know why. I'm supporting him, he says he's an author, but claims he just hasn't found his muse yet. He rarely even tries to write anymore and well, he's cheated on me more times than I can say, and-"

"Cheated? On you? Then he is a git! I say dump him. Dump his sorry arse right now. Call him back this very minute, and dump him."

"Ooo! Uncle John saw the A Word! I'm gonna tell Mum!" Ian said to his sister.

"Funny, that is just about the same advice that my friend gave me just the other day." Rose looked over at John and smiled.

"Ah, here we are! My favourite fish and chippy in all of London," said John, walking up to the takeaway window.

"Really? Mine too! They still use newspapers. You know, no one uses newspapers anymore, and they just don't taste the same without the newspapers. I was just telling Sarah Jane the very same thing the other day," said Rose, taking her cone from the worker through the window.

"Yes! Newspapers! Everyone talks about being green and recycling and all of that, but if the chippies all just got together and used old newspapers, global warming would be halted in a week." John grinned.

The children looked at each other with knowing smiles and waggled their eyebrows, seeing something brewing between the two adults.

The foursome carried their lunch to the small park across the street and sat on a bench. The children gobbled their food like it was their first meal in a month, and ran off to the swings. John and Rose ate and discussed books, and then she looked down at her watch.

"Oh bugger, I have to get back to the shop." She stood up and offered her hand to shake. "Thank you John, you have been a big help."

"For what?" he asked with a smile.

"I am going to fight for my shop! I am going to fight like I am fighting for my very life! I hope to see you again John, especially when you make purchases like that last one." She smiled brightly. "Thank you for lunch, it was brilliant." She hurried off back to her shop.

John watched her with quickly growing fondness as she walked away.

Barbara skipped back from the swings. "I like her. She's nice. Too bad you're her mortal enemy," she said with wisdom far beyond her years.

oOo

"Rose, darling! James Stone, my dear boy!" greeted the overly dramatic patron of the arts who had opened her opulent home to the bookish elite of London. Rose wasn't sure how she fit into this crowd, but she always ended up at these things, feeling out of her element, but ultimately surviving. Jimmy, on the other hand, always seemed to come away invigorated by the eclectic mix of authors, publishers, critics, playwrights, actors and media people.

"Go on and mingle Jimmy. Maybe you'll find someone who is interested in your non-existent manuscript. I'm going to check out the food." Rose cut Jimmy loose, and he set off to find someone rich, connected and gullible.

Rose headed for the dining room, where the appetisers had been laid out. She daintily picked up a single shrimp from the artfully arranged platter and placed it on her plate. A man to her left rudely reached right in front of her, diving for the shrimp platter. Using two shrimp, he scooped up three cream cheese rosettes with the pink crustaceans and shoved them in his mouth, licking his fingers.

"Excuse me, but that's the garnish," she said a bit curtly, "I'll clear out of your way if you'll give me a chance."

"Rose Tyler?" It was John.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised and confused, suddenly feeling rather self conscious in her simple skirt and pink sweater set, in contrast to the couture dressed ladies around her.

"Mrs. Francine Jones, was just appointed to my Board of Directors yesterday," he said with a nod. "And . . . " he tugged his ear, "and I'm here with my girlfriend." He swallowed hard, avoiding Rose's eyes.

"Your girlfriend." Rose nodded, her face impassive. "Right. Of course. I'm here with Jimmy. He's over there, talking with that telly and radio hostess Reinette Poisson."

"Ah. So that's the infamous Jimmy Stone," he sized him up, and decided the odds were definitely tipped in his own favour in the looks department, even though the man was good looking. "Interesting. My girlfriend is talking with your boyfriend." He made a funny noise in the back of his threat, apparently amused by the fact.

Rose set her plate down. "He's probably trying charm his way onto her show, telling her all about his one and only novel that was published when he was eighteen. Glory days." Rose made a frustrated face.

"Rose! John!" Francine Jones approached the two. "I was hoping the two of you would meet. You are in the same business after all. Has Rose told you that she owns the sweetest little children's book shop? But I'm afraid it isn't long for this world, and it's a shame because she knows more about children's literature than anyone else in London, John Wolfe. I just had the most brilliant idea! You could most definitely could use Rose's expertise, now that the children's book sector has become such a moneymaker. Go on, talk! Talk! Dig into those deep pockets of yours and find a place at Wolfe's Books for Rose Tyler!" With that Francine floated away.

"You're John Wolfe," said Rose flatly. "Hmm. Funny. It never crossed your mind to tell me? What were you doing in my shop? Spying on the competition? No, thats not right, because there is no way in hell I'll be able to compete with Wolfe's. I know, you were dancing on my grave!"

"What? Dancing on your grave? That's not very nice. I'm a nice person, not a . . . grave dancer!" John crossed his arms.

"Well, I'm not feeling very well. I think I'm going to head home. No one here I can relate to anyway. Mostly rich business owners who don't understand the value of the small independent shop in the life of a healthy community.

"Now that's not fair, my great-grandfather started Wolfe's Books one hundred twenty-five years ago in a shop not so different from yours up in Gallifrey!" He crossed his arms and tipped his head proudly.

"Where's that? Never heard of it!" challenged Rose hotly, leaning forward.

"Well ya' wouldn't have 'cos it's gone now!" He was clearly angry, but his voice had a hint of sadness in it as well. "And you know why I was in your store, huh? Because the kids _begged_ me to take them to your store," he said defensively. "They are always going on and on about those _overdone_ Willy Wonka candy floss and sweets windows of yours and _of_ _course_ they wanted to go in. But what unsuspecting, innocent little children don't know is that they are being lured into your gingerbread house of-"

"Hello my angel!" Reinette swept in and looped her arm through John's. She was impeccably dressed from head to toe in designer clothing, the picture of perfection. "And who is this girl?"

"Reinette, this is Rose Tyler. She owns the shop I told you about earlier today."

"Oh yes! That quaint little book shop with the exquisite window displays."

Rose smiled smugly at John as she spoke to Reinette. "They are exquisite, aren't they?"

"And not a single commercial character to be found! I admire your fidelity to the purity of children's literature, not sullying your shop by bringing in books which have movie or television tie-ins. But isn't it getting harder and harder to sell obscure and honestly, intellectually challenging and boring books to today's modern child?" she asked, almost as if she were interviewing Rose for her radio programme.

"On the contrary. Mr. Wolfe here," she nearly choked on his name, "brought his niece and nephew in today and between the two of them they chose eleven non-commercial and classic books, which they seemed more than happy to take off of my hands. If you'll excuse me, I need to be off. I'm not feeling too well."

Rose left the party and sent Jimmy a text message that she had taken a taxi home due to a throbbing headache.

oOo

Rose sat on her bed and opened up her MacBook to check her email. There were fifteen new messages: an online book club message board announcement (tonight's chat cancelled), Mickey sending her a picture of himself on the UglyMeter (2.5 out of 10, beat that Rose!), four last chance sale on shoes/handbags/dresses/more shoes ads (delete, delete, delete, delete, can't afford to buy anything new), bank statement is ready to view (now that's depressing), Wolfe's Books now offering online ordering with same day in-store pickup (even more depressing). She scanned the rest of the new emails for Doctor10, and couldn't help but smile when the second to last email was from her anonymous friend.

_"Hello ShopGirl, today was both brilliant and very, VERY not good. I feel badly about something that I did, or am about to do. Have we become so ruthless as human beings that we don't think of our fellow man (or woman) when it comes to business? If someone steals a watch from a jewellery store that person is charged with theft, but if I, as a businessman, intentionally do something that harms the livelihood of another business owner, it's just business. Am I wrong to feel badly? Or is business different than real life? I want to know what you think about this. It is keeping me awake. Doctor10."_

Rose read through the post and clicked reply. _"Funny you should have this question of conscience today of all days. My business is in trouble. I am afraid I am going to lose it. I own a beloved shop that has been in my family for decades, but we are barely staying afloat. We can't afford to move to a mall, or expand. My shop is established in the area, has been there for four decades. It is in an historic building. I know people love our shop, but I'm at a loss as to how to drum up more business. And now I find out that a megasuperduperdiscount store which sells the same thing that I see is moving in. What should I do?" _

She checked a news website and checked her email one more time before she decided it was time to go to bed. A reply from Doctor10 arrived.

_"I think that you need to find an advocate. Do you know anyone in the media? Perhaps you could convince them to do a story on the significance of small business owners as they pertain to the health of a neighbourhood. Do what you have to do to keep your business alive. People are depending upon you, ShopGirl! You have employees you send home with a pay check every week. This is war! Take no prisoners! Goodnight."_

oOo

The holidays rolled around and while business had increased during the most wonderful time of the year, it still was looking bleak for The Shop. Apparently Sarah Jane was rather well connected-much to Rose's surprise-and she arranged for several media outlets to do stories about The Shop and the decline of business activity within the neighbourhood due to the rise of shopping centers and superstores.

ShopGirl and Doctor10 continued their nightly email communications with rare breaks. And if there was a day which one or the other didn't email or reply, they would send a doubly-long email the next.

oOo

It was a particularly cold morning in February and John Wolfe was running on a treadmill at his health club. His best friend and assistant, Jack Harkness and he were having an endurance contest.

"Hey, I know her! Turn that up, would ya?" John hollered while he continued his pace, blowing past the eight mile mark. A sweaty man turned up the volume on one of the many televisions hanging above the row of treadmills.

"You know her? And you haven't introduced me? That's not very nice of you, Doc," teased Jack, barely winded as he hit mile eight himself.

"She may be beautiful, but she's a pill!" John spat out, wiping the sweat from his brow, and then increasing the pace of his treadmill. "She thinks that she has the moral high ground just because she's the cute little independent shop owner, and I'm the big bad book magnate." He exaggerated the tone of his voice appropriately. "See, look at her! Is she crying? She is actually crying on the Beeb morning show!" he whinged.

"Don't be so hard on her Doc, she's probably gonna lose her store and her employees are gonna lose their jobs. She cares about people, it's obvious. Just look at her! She seems like she is a lovely person." Jack increased his speed to match John's. "And she's hot. If I were you, I'd sweep right in, be the big hero, give her a shoulder to cry on, offer her a job and someplace warm and manly to land."

"Yeah, well I'm not you. And she may be hot, but she's still a pill."

oOo

Winter trudged on, Valentine's Day arrived, and Cupid's little arrow clearly missed Rose Tyler's heart. In that most romantic day of hearts and flowers, Rose found out that Jimmy Stone had found someone else to sponge off of.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish!" exclaimed Sarah Jane as she hugged Rose.

"I'm not cryin' 'bout Jimmy, 'm cryin' 'bout the shop!" she sobbed into Sarah Jane's shoulder. "I've never been so happy as I was last night when I slapped that gorgeous face of his! But do you know who he has taken up with?" Rose stepped away and started laughing.

"Who?" asked her friend, as she handed Rose a tissue.

"That cow Reinette Poisson! They've been carryin' on in secret ever since they met at that awful party! You know, the night I found out who John Wolfe really was?"

"Oooo! The tosser!" spat Sarah Jane. "Here's to no more Jimmy Stone." Sarah Jane lifted her elegant china teacup and clinked it with Rose's Greenwich Royal Observatory Planetarium mug.

"Lynda's Valentine's Day display was beautiful," sighed Rose. "Last one she'll ever do for The Shop Around the Corner. I'm happy for her though, getting that posh job at Harrod's, decorating their windows."

"I think Mickey is going to give his notice today Rose," Sarah Jane said sadly. "I overheard him talking with Martha."

"Don't blame him really. Getting engaged on Valentine's . . . He's all grown up now, and needs a real job. He's been my best mate since we were kids, but everyone has to leave home in the end. What kind of job do you suppose he has gotten? He's so hush hush about it," asked Rose under her breath.

"I think he's going to be a secret agent!" said Sarah Jane, conspiratorially.

Rose rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right."

"No, seriously! I do! I saw him get into this fancy black SUV last week, on the day he had his interview. It had official British government plates."

"Blimey," was all Rose could say.

"How goes it with Doctor10?" Sarah Jane asked.

"Every night, there he is in my inbox. His email is right there waiting for me when I get home. Seems he's the only reliable thing in my life right now, and I don't even know who he really is. Funny, that. We like the same books, the same foods, the same movies, and I don't even know know his real name."

"Well, I'm going to head home Rose. You know, why don't you come with me? I'm making chicken piccata and asparagus risotto. Seems silly that we have worked together all of this time, and never once have you been to my home."

"Alright," she smiled. "Thanks."

Over dinner, Sarah Jane admitted that she hadn't drawn a salary for herself for over five months. "I'm filthy rich," she said simply.

"Why do you work for me then? At a children's book shop?" Rose asked as she sipped a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

"Lonely. I travelled much of my young adulthood with the most wonderful man. There was no romance, well at least not on his part, but I loved him with my whole heart. He was quite a bit older, you see, but he showed me things you wouldn't believe existed. And then one day, out of the blue, it was done. My traveling days were over. He had to return home, was forced to stop traveling. He had responsibilities, and I couldn't be a part of his life anymore." Sarah Jane looked off in memory.

"He wasn't married was he?" asked Rose.

"Oh no, nothing like that. He was . . . important. He had a duty to uphold."

Rose gasped. "Was he a royal?"

"Something like that," she admitted, with a small smile. "He gave me this house, and left me with a small fortune, too. I suppose he loved me, in his own way." She smiled gratefully. "And it was enough for me. He was worth it. The life was worth it. Rose, do you have a plan for . . . after?"

"No," she admitted, knowing exactly to what Sarah Jane was referring.

"The end isn't here yet, but when, not if, the time does come that you have to close, don't give up on life just because the shop is gone. I could have given up after he left me with what I thought was nothing, but I didn't! And look what I have! He left me rich in so many ways, and not just financially. You have your memories of your family, your friends, all of the children to whom you have brought joy." Sarah Jane patted Rose's hand. "And one more thing. Go down fighting. I've arranged for some of my television friends to show up at your boycott rally tomorrow at Wolfe's grand opening."

"Did you make your sign?" asked Rose with a small smile.

"I did!"

Rose hugged Sarah Jane. She drove Rose home in her little green car, and Rose walked up the long stairwell into her lonely little flat. Rose dropped her weary self onto her sofa and opened her laptop to check her email. A chime and a message box appeared in the middle of the screen.

_Doctor10: Are you there?_

Rose thought for a moment. Should she respond? She had never engaged in an IM conversation with a stranger. She felt like she knew Doctor10, though. They had been corresponding for months now. She had pondered many times how funny it was in this modern age to have found someone to whom she felt so close, but had never met face to face. And to think it had all started when they had met on a virtual book club message board discussing Jules Verne's _The Time Machine_. What harm could possibly come of it? It wasn't any different than emailing, right? Just . . . faster. She typed her reply, hovered over "enter" for a moment. She closed her eyes and tapped the key.

_ShopGirl: I'm here._

_Doctor10: Thought I'd take a chance that you were still up. Just read the email you sent last night. I'm so sorry that it has come to this. Is there no way your business can be saved? I am quite a successful businessman. Perhaps I could help you come up with a strategy to salvage your shop? Please, let me help you in your time of need._

_ShopGirl: Successful eh? You sure you aren't just showing off?_

_Doctor10: Most definitely not showing off. I am *very* successful. In fact, if I told you who I was, you would immediately recognise my name._

_ShopGirl: You think you're so impressive. LOL._

_Doctor10: I don't *think* I'm impressive, I *am* impressive {grinning}. Back to your business problem. How badly do you want to save your business?_

_ShopGirl: IT. IS. MY. LIFE._

_Doctor10: Well alright then, you are going to have to give it all you have got. Become . . . become the big bad wolf. Huff and puff and blow the competition down._

_ShopGirl: Big bad wolf. That's more ironic than you could possibly imagine._

There was a pause in the typed conversation.

_Doctor10: Would you like to meet in person?_

Rose stared at the screen, and then typed.

_ShopGirl: Why? Why now after all this time?_

_Doctor10: I could . . . give you better advice if I knew your particular circumstances, and discussing things face to face would be much more efficient._

_ShopGirl: Hmmm. Have to think about it. _

_Doctor10: We would meet in public. You could even bring a friend if you'd like._

_ShopGirl: What if you are an axe murderer? You'd hack us *both* to pieces._

_Doctor10: I'm not an axe murderer. I promise. And what if you are a crazy lady with 500 cats and you smell like you live in a sausage factory?_

_ShopGirl: I am a dog person, but I can't have a dog because of my current living situation. And I don't like sausage._

There was a pause.

_Doctor10: I have a dog. His name is K9. Isn't that a great name for a dog? He's really smart, too. Can do lots of tricks._

There was another pause.

_ShopGirl: Are you married?_

_Doctor10: I'm not married. I was married once long, long ago, but she died. And . . . I recently ended it with my girlfriend because she has been having a thing with some pretty boy she met at a party a few months back._

_ShopGirl: You never mentioned you had a girlfriend._

_Doctor10: You never asked._

_ShopGirl: I told *you* I had a boyfriend._

_Doctor10: To be accurate, you *asked* for boyfriend advice._

_ShopGirl: Fair enough. I DID take your advice, by the way, and I dumped his sorry bum last week. Turns out HE was seeing someone for the past few months, too. Met her at a party as well. Hah! Maybe we should both stay away from parties, yeah?_

_Doctor10: But parties have the little nibbles! I love parties. Maybe we are going to the wrong parties. But I always bring a banana to a party just in case the little nibbles are rubbish._

_ShopGirl: That is odd, but strangely wise advice. LOL._

_Doctor10: So, back to my question. How about meeting for something simple like coffee or tea? _

_ShopGirl: I've never done anything like this before. What if you are disappointed in me? What if you see me and want to run away? _

_Doctor10: Why? Are you a scary alien or something? What if you are disappointed in *me*? What if you don't fancy blokes who wear brainy specs? Although, I can't imagine that you would be disappointed as I am devastatingly handsome._

_ShopGirl: Humble too, I see. No, I'm not an alien. Just an average girl who lives in a surprisingly modest flat in Notting Hill. And I have no prejudice against brainy specs. Okay. Let's meet. I am feeling brave. How do you do that? You always make me feel braver than I am! But you had better tell me where and when right away or I will lose my nerve._

_Doctor10: Brilliant! How about that little tea shop on Kensington Park Road near Elgin in Notting Hill? _

_ShopGirl: I know the place. Saturday night? 8? I'll be the one reading the book._

_Doctor10: Everyone reads books in the tea shop. Put a rose in the book._

_ShopGirl: You can't be serious. A rose? Isn't that a big cliche?_

_Doctor10: If not a rose, a daisy, or a peony or a sunflower. Doesn't matter. Just something that tells me you are you._

_ShopGirl: Since sunflowers are a bit unwieldy, I'll go with a rose._

_Doctor10: It's a date. I had better end this. I have a very early morning tomorrow. *Very* big day for my business tomorrow! Wish me well._

_ShopGirl10: Good luck and Goodnight!_

_Doctor10: Goodnight ShopGirl :D_

"He smiley'd me. He's never smiley'd me!" Rose said out loud, alarmed. She closed her laptop, panicked. "What have I just done?"

* * *

The idea for this fic sprang from an email conversation between scifigeekgirl, aintfraidanoghosts and I a few days ago. SFGG wrote the fantastic "Crop Circles" based upon "Signs". I saw "You've Got Mail" on the list of movies that lent themselves to being re-cast with Who characters, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. Hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Who's Got Mail?**  
**Chapter 2 of 3**

A/N - I know I said this would be two chapters long, but as is usually the case, I got carried away.

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf, who's afraid of the big bad wolf, tra la la la la!" Sarah Jane sang with gusto. A few passersby stopped and clapped at her performance.

Today was the grand opening of the brand new Wolfe's Books London flagship store. Many acquaintances had promised to come to the boycott protest, but only a dozen had shown up, and of those, two were under the age of three and one was in a pram.

"Boycott Wolfe's!" Lynda Moss shouted meekly, in an almost friendly voice, fighting the urge to offer her friendly smile to those who were entering the store. It was her day off from her new job at Harrod's, but she still dearly loved her former employer and the quickly sinking, Shop Around the Corner.

Rose watched with frustration as people streamed into Wolfe's in droves, either ignoring or sidestepping the non-threatening picketers with a laugh or an amused look. "Doesn't anyone care?" she asked no one in particular.

A limousine pulled up to the kerb, and John Wolfe unfolded his tall, lanky frame out the vehicle. Next, out bounded his niece, Barbara and nephew, Ian. Finally, a lovely ginger-haired woman stepped out. Barbara grabbed the woman's hand as soon as she was on the pavement.

John walked up to the marching circle of picketers, pushed his hands into his brown pinstriped pockets and watched with amusement. "Look Donna, we have protestors! How exciting! I love a good protest. Reminds me of my university days. Always something to challenge back then wasn't there?" he recalled, nostalgically.

"Mummy, lookie there! It's Rose Tyler, the nice book shop lady. Why is she hollering unkind things about Uncle John?" asked Barbara, confused.

"Well, why don't I go and find out? You go inside with your brother and Uncle John. Tell him to buy you a book." Donna Temple-Noble strode confidently to the picketers.

"But Uncle John isn't going inside, Mummy, he's _watching_," whined Barbara.

"Why is he smiling, Mum?" asked Ian.

"Because he likes what he sees, I think," Donna said quietly to herself, with a half smile.

"_He can huff and he can puff but he can't blow my shop down_. Very clever Rose Tyler," John said, reading the slogan on the sign that Rose was holding proudly above her head. "Looks like rain. Aww, that's too bad. Hope you have brollies," he taunted putting up his own automatic umbrella with the push of the button. It popped open with a satisfying thud.

"We do _not_ need brollies," said Sarah Jane, proudly. "We will stand in the rain! We will stand in the sleet if it comes to that!"

"There are some really lovely commemorative umbrellas in the gift department. Nice big golf umbrellas, the big, sturdy type. Alternating blue and green panels. The handle is a lovely golden wolf. I tell you what. If it rains, I'll donate some to your cause."

"Free advertising for Wolfe's Books? No, ta," said Rose.

"Well, you are going to get a chill if you stand out in the rain much longer. Brrr! It's chilly out here. I would hate for you to catch pneumonia. I would feel responsible! How about a nice cup of tea? Espresso? Herbal tisane? Hot cocoa? How about a macchiato? If you are lactose intolerant or vegan, I do believe we offer both soy and rice milk. Gimme a second here, and I'll take your drink orders." John produced a small notepad and an odd silver ink pen.

"You can't even write with a normal biro or a simple pencil. What kind of a pen is that?" she asked with a smirk. Rose was determined to be contrary today.

"Oh, isn't it brilliant? It's a multi tool. Writing implement," he waved it, "torch," a blue light illuminated on the end, "bottle opener," a corkscrew flipped out, "pen knife, uh, lock pick, what else? Oh! Noise maker." He pressed the button twice and it made a whirring sound.

"Why do you need a pen that whistles?" she asked incredulously.

"Because it's cool!" He flipped open the spiral notepad with a flourish and followed Rose as she marched in the circle, his pen poised to write. "Rose, what will you have?"

"I wouldn't drink a beverage from your establishment if I was marooned on a planet made entirely of dust, and you were holding the only cup of water." Rose said with a smirk.

"Oh that's brilliant! There's a Wolfe's Books on your hypothetical dust planet!" he exclaimed with exuberance.

Rose pursed her lips and glared at him, tossed her hair and continued her circular march. He stopped following her. When she came back around again, John caught her eye, winked at her and flashed her a cheeky grin.

Barbara pulled away from her mother's hand and came to her uncle's side. He looked down and saw her sad, confused face. "Why is Rose being so mean, Uncle John?" she asked.

"She's mad at me," he replied, lifting Barbara up onto his shoulders. Without another word, he walked into the store, instructing her to mind her head as they went through dark blue and white doors.

Rose frowned, mentally kicking herself, knowing that the sweet little girl had seen her unkind behaviour. She sighed as she continued to walk, though her shoulders were now slumped.

"Hello, I'm Donna Temple-Noble, John Wolfe's publicity agent. What can I do for you lovely people?" she asked loudly with a professional smile.

The picketing circle stopped, and Rose Tyler set down her sign. "I'm Rose Tyler, owner of _The Shop Around the Corner_." Rose extended her hand to shake, trying her best to match the businesslike demeanour of the firecracker with whom she was standing toe-to-toe.

"Nice to finally meet Rose Tyler. John is always talking about you! I can see why he . . ." She saw a confused look on Rose's face and stopped mid-thought. "I love your store! My mum took me there when I was little. My kids told me all about their visit around Halloween. Couldn't stop raving about the sweet lady who owned it. Ian told me that he forced my brother to ask you to lunch," she said with a laugh.

Rose sighed and smiled wanly, but then built up her courage once again. "This is the thing Mrs. Noble-Temple. When a large superstore moves into a neighbourhood that has historically been populated with mixed use residential and small businesses, the small businesses simply don't stand a fighting chance and-"

"Did someone write that for you? That's very good. You have a good publicist." Donna said, though not condescendingly. "I'm going to be brutally honest, Miss Tyler. I like you already, and the fact that you have held on to your business this long is not only admirable, but a testament to you as a person." Donna patted Rose fondly on the arm.

"There is no way my little shop can compete with your brother's megastore," she replied lamely, trying to gain the woman's sympathy once more.

"Did you know my brother commissioned a two year study before choosing to build his flagship store in this neighbourhood? He wanted to put it to be in the place that would do the most good. We were just lucky when Henrik's blew up because we weren't sure where it would work," she smirked. "Anyway, the small business ownership rates in this neighbourhood have been on the decline for quite a while now. How many storefronts on your street were empty this time last year? How many have changed hands more than once, even twice in the past two years? But in the past six months, ever since the announcement that we were opening, you've seen new restaurants and shops opening, haven't you?"

Rose nodded.

"Sure some are chains, but most aren't. Most are independently owned businesses, just like your charming shop. The fact that your shop sells books is honestly, rotten luck, and I'm really genuinely sorry that it is not doing well. But Wolfe's Books is not killing your neighbourhood, it is revitalising it, Miss Tyler. And he certainly did not set out to put you out of business. It's not personal, Miss Tyler."

Rose blew a puff of air out through her lips and crossed her arms. "Not personal? What . . . What does that mean? Not personal. Well it's personal to me. It's personal to my employees. He's a person. I'm a person. It _is_ personal."

"Don't you see what he's doing here? He is making it personal! This store is completely personal. It's large, yes, but it isn't inhuman. Look at all of these families going in and coming out with smiles on their faces carrying bags of books! And when they leave, they walk down the pavement, grab a bite to eat, perhaps pop into a boutique and buy a tog or two on their way home . . . all from shops in your neighbourhood."

Rose let go of her sign and let it fall to the ground where it landed with a small thud.

"Your shop was having difficulties before Wolfe's announced this new store, wasn't it?"

Rose nodded and finally spoke. "Yeah. Business has been bad going on sixteen months now."

"Now why don't you throw those signs in the rubbish bin, and come inside. I'll buy you a nice cup of tea, and then I'll give you a grand tour myself. I bet you're dying to see the children's department aren't you?"

Rose stared up at the grey sky, trying hard not to let tears start.

"And I promise Rose, I'll keep you as far away from my brother as possible. He can be rude, can't he?" said Donna with a snort, but then her voice softened as she touched Rose's arm. "But once you get to know him, he's got a heart of gold."

Rose's eyes snapped onto Donna's, and there was a moment of understanding between the two of them.

"Thanks, but I think I'm gonna head home. Maybe the others would like to go on in, but I don't know that I could handle seeing all of your success right now. I'd just get jealous," she said, rolling her eyes at herself. "Thanks for stopping to talk to me, and not making me feel like . . . someone small and unimportant."

Donna squeezed Rose's arm one more time, and offered her a kind smile, and then disappeared through the massive blue and white glass-paneled doors. Rose cancelled the protest, and the rag tag group of boycotters disbanded.

oOo

"This is the place, Cafe Cosmos," John said nervously.

John pulled on his friend's shirt sleeve, halting him just shy of the appointed meeting place. "Why am I doing this? Tell me again, why did I agree to meet this person?" John asked his best friend Jack.

"You're just taking it to the next level Doc. You meet someone you like, you take it up a notch, and then another and another until it is absolutely positively imperative that you run away as fast as you can." Jack grinned brightly.

"Yeah, and you reach the top floor in the space of an hour. I'm not as _flexible_ as you are, Jack."

Jack laughed and slapped John on the back. "So she said she'd be sitting at a table with a flower in a book?"

"Yep, a rose."

"Aww, Doc, seriously? A rose? Could that be more cliche? I bet she's one of those far too sentimental, old fashioned people who never come out of their house except to go to the library. I bet she's a real weirdo."

"You're telling she's ugly, aren't you?" John asked with a smirk.

"Yessiree," Jack said with a flourish.

"I don't care. If she's even half as pretty as that new Face of Boe sculpture down the National Museum, I'd be insane not to drop down on one knee and ask her to marry me tonight. She is . . . perfect."

"Well there you go, and I'm happy for you, Doc. Now go in there already!"

"Would look for me?" begged John.

"What are you, five?" Jack whined. "John Wolfe, you are the de facto Lord of Books, and you are scared to look at a woman through a window?"

"Just do it already!" hissed John as he paced on the pavement one shop front over from the cafe.

Jack just shook his head and ambled slowly by the window. He stopped and pretended to be reading the posted menu, and then he scanned the patrons.

"I see a very pretty girl. Wait, nope. No book. Oh, wait, there's someone with a book, and she has a pink rose."

"Well? What does she look like?" John was nearly bouncing with anticipation.

"Dunno, waiter's in the way. Oh wait, he's moved. Oh. Wow." Jack turned and smiled at John.

"Well . . . ?" John asked anxiously.

"Oh, she's pretty alright. Gorgeous more like it. She's also quite a bit younger than I would have guessed for a business owner. Can't be more than twenty or twenty-one."

"Wow. Age gap. Didn't think of that. Seems so much older than that in her emails. What colour is her hair? What does she look like?" John asked, craning his neck, attempting to look through the cafe window.

"Blonde, obviously bleached, but it suits her. Really pretty brown eyes. Full, kissable pink lips. Petite but very well proportioned," he winked. "Appears to be on the shorter side, well, shorter than you." He laughed nervously. "Funny thing is, ah. . ." Jack pointed for emphasis. "You know who she looks like?" Jack asked with a somewhat pained grin.

"Who?" asked John, leaning forward with anticipation.

"Rose Tyler."

"Oh," John tugged his ear. "Well . . . very pretty then, for a pill."

"Yeah . . . In fact, if you don't like Rose Tyler, you won't like this girl." Jack's smile now looked like it might break his face.

"Really?" smirked John.

"Yeah. 'Cos Doc, it _is_ Rose Tyler."

"What? What! WHAT!" John stood stony still and turned to leave.

Jack grabbed his arm and halted him "Doc, you're gonna leave her there waiting? You can't do that. That's just rude."

"That's me. Rude and not ginger."

"John . . .!" Jack said threateningly.

John growled. "Oh, alright!"

"Don't be rude!" Jack pointed at him, as he called.

Rose saw John enter the cafe out of the corner of her eye. Immediately, she slunk down in her seat with a pained look on her face. She shielded her eyes with her hand, pretending that she was engrossed in her book. But it was too late . . . he had seen her and was coming her way. Rose cringed, but then straightened her back and closed her book.

"Hello Rose Tyler, fancy seeing you here on a Saturday night. May I join you?" John sat down without waiting for her answer. He crossed his arms and leaned in the table, staring her down with an enigmatic grin.

"I'm sorry, but that seat is taken. I'm meeting someone. I need you to go," she said calmly, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh! You're reading _Pride and Prejudice_! I love _Pride and Prejudice_! Well, really I don't, but isn't everyone supposed to say they love _P&P_? Now _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_, that . . . that was a page turner!" He tapped Rose's book and nodded decisively.

"Seriously? Zombies?" She shook her head and glared at him in judgment.

"I bet you read _Pride & Prejudice_ every year. You just love Mr. Darcy don't you? Does he make you swoon?" John waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously. "Come to think of it, you and I are a rather like Lizzie Bennett and Fitzwilliam Darcy, aren't we. Fitzzzwillliammm . . ." He rolled the name around his mouth and squinted as he thought about how it felt. "Don't think I'll ever name a son Fitzwilliam, but it is a brilliant name."

"Please, I really do need you to go. He'll be here any minute and I don't want him to think I'm with someone else."

"He? Oh well now, this is interesting. You're meeting a he! You must have finally kicked that no-good Jimmy Stone to the kerb, then! Cheers!" John nodded.

Rose ignored his comments and craned her neck when a handsome man opened the door, but them her face fell when it turned out he was with the pretty woman for whom he ease holding the door open.

"So who is this man you are meeting, hmm? Someone you met at a _book club_? You aren't in one of those _50 Shades of Grey_ book clubs are you?" he said with a suggestive grin.

"No, I am not," she blushed. "But I did meet him in book club, if you must know." She didn't say it was an online book club of course. "We were reading _The Time Machine_."

"H. G. Wells. Interesting fellow. Good choice. So he's a bookish sort of fellow. A librarian perhaps? Professor of English Literature?" he pried, leaning even further forward with anticipation.

"No, he's a successful businessman," she said proudly, fiddling with the rose that had fallen out of her book.

"Oh would you look at that. A rose for a Rose. 'What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

"Think I haven't heard that one before? I promise, I'm not Juliet and you are not my Romeo."

"Me thinks there's a story behind this rose. Don't see that everyday, a pretty girl with a book at a cafe alone on a Saturday night . . . with a _rose_," he over enunciated the last word. "Ahh. I've got it." He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "It's a signal isn't it? _'I'll be the girl with the pink rose in her book' _you told him, because this is a blind date, isn't it? You don't know who he is!"

John crossed his arms, surveying Rose's face as she remained silent for a moment.

"Skilful deducing, Lewis," she finally said, snidely.

John smirked momentarily. "Could be him." He pointed to a young man with a bar through his nose and jet black hair. "Or him. He turned around and motioned his head to a man with a waxed goatee sporting a black cape lined with red satin.

"No, it isn't the goth boy or that bloke in the cape. My friend said he'd be here at eight and it's only five minutes 'til. He isn't even here yet."

"How do you know he isn't already here? If I were meeting someone on a blind date I would definitely come early to conduct a scouting mission," he said with a nod and a sniff.

"Just like you scouted out my humble, helpless little book shop before you swooped in and crushed me like a bug?" Her voice was biting and caustic. Rose drew in a breath, sat up straight and her eyes began to flash with golden fire. "You Mr. Wolfe are nothing but a soulless blood sucking vampire in a brown pinstriped suit!" But as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she gasped. "For the first time in my life, I'm faced with someone who has challenged me and I knew exactly what to say and I said it. Now please Mr. Wolfe, please go. I really want to meet this person." She closed her eyes for a moment. "He has been the one bright spot in my life for the past six months and you, more than anyone, know how totally rubbish things are for me right now!" Rose's eyes were shining as tears threatened to start any moment.

John ceased his teasing. "I do believe that is my cue to go." He left quietly, his hands in his pockets.

Rose waited in vain for another half an hour before she gave up and left. She took a taxi home and composed an email.

_"Dear Doctor10, I don't know why you didn't come tonight. I don't know that I have ever been so disappointed in my entire life. But knowing you, I am sure you had a very good reason. The thing is, I went there expecting to finally meet you, my friend, and ended up running into someone who is probably more unlike you than anyone in the entire universe. He is someone whom I have fantasized about slapping and I finally had the chance to say what I really wanted to say. And I did. And you know what? I feel awful about it. Awful and horrible and lousy. I hope everything is alright with you . . . please let me know that you are okay. Your friend, ShopGirl._

Rose hit send, and went to bed.

oOo

Rose opened her email the next day and Doctor10 had replied. It was time stamped just after one am on Sunday morning. What she didn't know is that it had taken him an hour to compose the message, carefully being truthful without disclosing the full truth.

"_Dear ShopGirl, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I feel terrible. I mean really, really terrible. Awful in fact. I'm sure you feel worse, though. I don't have any excuse really, other than cowardice. That's me. A coward every time. I should have been there for you in your time of need, and I wasn't. Your Doctor10."_

Their correspondence did continue, and although Doctor10 never did ask Rose to meet in person again, their communications did become more transparent and personal, though they continued to keep their anonymity.

_"Doctor10, Well it's finally come down to it. Tomorrow is doomsday. My shop is closing. Did I ever tell you that? I own a shop, well, owned. It was a sweet little shop. My bookkeeper is retiring, my window dresser got a job at Harrod's and my all around great guy who did everything else got some super secret government job that he can't tell anyone about. He gets to wear cool commando gear and drive around town in a black, flash SUV. When I wake up tomorrow morning, I'm not sure what I will do with myself. I have enough savings to keep me afloat for awhile, but at some point I will have to have a plan. Maybe I'll finally get my A levels and go on to university. Maybe I'll study English Lit and become a teacher. Wish me luck tomorrow." _Rose hesitated for a minute and then continued to type. _"If you ever want to practice being brave, maybe we could try meeting again? ShopGirl."_

oOo

There was a box of Kleenex on the counter for the patrons who were weepy. Rose had shed her last tear before she came into the shop this morning. Many loyal customers shared their happy childhood memories with Rose and Sarah Jane. Mickey popped in to say goodbye (wearing his black commando gear), and Lynda brought Rose a gift card from Harrod's.

"Rose, I need to tell you something. I accepted a job with Wolfe's."

"Oh," said Rose, quietly, ringing up a stack if 75% off books for a customer.

"I hope you're not too horribly mad," Lynda said nervously.

"I'm not mad, Lynda," she said genuinely. "I'm happy for you. So tell me about your job."

"Well, Mr. Wolfe's sister Donna Noble-Temple came by my job last week and offered me the position. She said that I was the best window dresser in all of London, and they wanted me to be in charge of the windows of their flagship store and to work in children's books. Funny thing, everyone I work with thinks I have a PhD in children's literature. But I suppose compared to them, well . . ."

Rose laughed at that. "Compared to them, I'm sure you do. Wow! Those windows are huge! Think of the stuff you'll be able to do with them! I'll have to stop by and see your works of art." Rose said, handing change to the woman with a smile and a thank you.

"Rose, Wolfe's is a wonderful company. I mean a really wonderful place. The people I work with are super nice and the store is flat out gorgeous. John Wolfe has even personally asked me about my plans for the windows. He asked about you, too."

"About me? Why would he ask about me?" Rose said with a confused scowl.

"Dunno," Lynda replied with a shrug. "I really do hope you'll come by and see my windows. I sort of . . . well, paid an homage to you and The Shop this week. Will you? Will you come by tomorrow? Pretty please with sugar and candy floss and rainbow sprinkles on top?" she begged.

"Okay, I'll stop by. Not like I have anything else to do," Rose said, a bit glumly.

"Great! I have a break at 2:00. Meet me at the cafe under the spiral staircases, 'kay?"

By the end of the day, every last book, toy and bauble had been sold. Rose stood alone the empty shop. She flipped the light switch for the last time, removed the old fashioned bell that hung over the top of the door, locked up and walked away. The bell rang quietly as she walked to her bus.

oOo

Rose slipped on her prettiest casual spring dress, put her hair up in a flirty ponytail and applied her makeup carefully. She assumed that many of the employees of Wolfe's Books might recognise her, given the fact that she had been marching in front of their store on opening day, and she didn't want to give them any reason to pity her.

She had never stepped inside of a Wolfe's Books before today. In her mind, she had pictured a lifeless grey warehouse filled with metal shelving and glaring fluorescent lights hanging from the bare ceiling. What she saw as she entered the store was the very last thing she expected. Lynda had told her that the store was gorgeous, but the reality? It was breathtaking.

Upon pushing the deep blue wood and glass doors, Rose found herself standing inside of a massive atrium. She looked up and saw a glass ceiling three stories above. The main floor housed periodicals to the left, gifts for the reader to the right, general interest books to the rear and straight ahead, in the middle of the store, were a series of massive spiral staircases twisting to the floors above. Nestled under the staircases was the welcoming cafe.

The immediately recognisable wolf logo was tastefully embossed in gold, carved or in relief here and there. Most surprising of all was the lack of flat surfaces. The walls were curved, and had an almost organic texture. As she walked by a wall, she reached out and dragged her fingertips along one of the surfaces. It was slightly rough, but didn't scrape her hand. Green hand-blown glass light fixtures hung from the ceiling, casting a warm light downward that was conducive to reading, but a mysterious and atmospheric green light outward, which danced on the walls.

Everywhere she looked, people were seated on comfortable chairs, sofas and bean bag chairs, reading or quietly chatting in groups. Sales staff were not harassing them, but were readily available.

Straight ahead was the cafe where she was to meet Lynda. She didn't see her friend, but she did see Donna Noble-Temple holding a fine china demitasse cup. Across from her at the table was her half-brother, holding onto the cup portion of a blue mug with the Wolfe logo in gold leaf.

Rose slowly approached the pair, knowing it would be rude to ignore them, but nervous to do so.

"Rose Tyler? W-welcome to Wolfe's Books. Welcome to my shop," John said standing up, almost shyly.

"It's beautiful, really beautiful," she said in awe as she looked around.

"This bloke here designed it himself, but he won't tell you that," Donna said with a snort, nodding her head towards her half brother.

"Well it's not like I was the architect or anything, but it did sort of spring from my imagination," he admitted. "Have you been up to children's yet?" he asked with hope in his eyes.

"No. Not yet. I am here to meet a friend for coffee. One of your employees in fact, well, one who used to be mine but is now one of yours."

"Oh! I know who you are talking about, Lynda with a Y! Fantastic girl. I just had to have her do our window displays," John said proudly. "Your windows were the best you know, and I only take the best."

"I thought you said they were overdone, Willy Wonka and gingerbread?" asked Rose, with a half smile.

"Well, I was," John tugged on his ear, "not thinking clearly that day. Anyway, I hope you enjoy browsing the place. I'm quite proud of it, actually, and I hope you like it too."

"There's Lynda now. I guess I'd better go." Rose was feeling an odd, warmish sort of feeling that she certainly didn't expect to feel as John looked at her. She was suddenly rather disappointed that Lynda had shown up after all. She finally broke her eyes from his with a nervous laugh and left the table to meet Lynda.

Donna made a face at her brother, the type of face that spoke volumes.

"No, just no. Stop doing that . . . thing you do, that . . . face thing," John said, pointing a finger.

"I'm not doing anything," she said with a mischievous smile. "But now that you mention it, for a moment there, I sort of felt like the two of you forgot I was even here."

"Donna!" growled John. "She's . . . "

"She's what? Charming, smart, lovely and funny?" Donna took a sip of her espresso.

"She's . . ." John sighed and fell back against his chair, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. "Donna, it's complicated. Very complicated."

"Reinette was complicated. That Cheem woman, now _she_ was complicated. But Rose

Tyler is as uncomplicated as they come."

John made a rather juvenile face at his sister, and laughed at him.

"I need to go," Donna stood up, and kissed her brother's cheek. "You're the one who's making things complicated, you skinny boy in a suit." She slapped his cheek playfully a few times, picked up her personal china espresso cup and left.

John stood up binned the remains of their afternoon coffee break and went upstairs to his office, located on the third floor.

oOo

Rose made her way up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Lynda had been called into a marketing meeting for her design expertise so she had to say goodbye to Rose, leaving her free to explore the vast store on her own. She had already been to classics, geography, fantasy and sci-fi and biographies, and she new she couldn't put it off any longer. It was time to go to children's.

Following a colour coded trail of tiles on the intricately designed mosaic floor, she was led to her destination. She gasped. In front of her was a child-scaled, somewhat three-dimensional painted version of a 1950's London high street complete with false shop fronts, two sofas for reading which resembled vintage automobiles and a water fountain for thirsty little throats. In the middle of the block was one of those anachronistic blue police public call boxes that used to be seen all over the country, but were now all but extinct.

"Go on, open the door."

Rose turned her head to see John standing behind her.

"Just pull the door open?" she asked.

"Yep."

Rose pulled the handle, and a door much larger than the faux door that was painted on the wall opened, amply able to accommodate adults. She found herself in a children's wonderland of books.

"This is my favourite place in the whole store." John leaned over her shoulder and whispered into her ear.

"This is just . . . amazing! It's incredible! Look at the ceiling!" Rose jumped up and down in amazement. The ceiling was painted midnight blue, and projections of stars, planets, celestial bodies and the occasional space ship swirled and moved, constantly changing. Down at eye level, however, thanks to futuristic-looking dropped track lighting, the room was bright and perfect for reading.

Rose walked through the department like she was in a museum filled with the most precious works of art, not saying a word. John simply leaned up against painting of a Hobbit house on the wall and watched her. She picked up a copy of _Wind in the Willows_ and rubbed her hand over the embossed cover with a smile.

Of course there was a very large area dedicated to Harry Potter. "Lynda designed this area. Installation was finished just a couple of days ago. Isn't it brilliant? Look up. There's the snitch!" John said with glee pointing to a golden snitch, wings aflutter, bobbing and flitting by some miracle of modern magic.

"That's really cool!" Rose said with a giggle, putting her balled-up fists to her face, feeling a little bit like a giddy twelve year old.

"Excuse me, excuse me please, but I'm trying to find those shoes books?" A harried mother was keeping an eye on her daughter who had lost herself in the fairies and magical creatures section.

"Uh, do you know the author?" asked the slack-jawed young sales clerk.

"I don't know anything more. It's a series about shoes."

"Noel Streatfield. That's S-T-R-E-A-T field. Written in the 1930's . . . _Ballet Shoes, Skating Shoes, Theatre Shoes, Circus Shoes_. I'd start her on _Ballet Shoes_. It's my favourite, but _Skating Shoes_ is brilliant too, but it's out of print. You could always try online for a used copy."

"Thank you miss," said the grateful woman, and she followed the young man to the computer so he could locate where the book would be located in the vast department.

Rose decided it was time to leave. She had seen enough. Wolfe's Books was not some evil monster of a store, it was a lovely, wonderful place, and she wasn't sure what to think now that she couldn't hate it anymore. Further she wasn't sure what she should think about John Wolfe himself, now that she didn't hate _him_ anymore, either.

"I'll see you out," said John kindly.

"Thanks but, I think I need to be alone now Mr. Wolfe," she said soberly.

"Please. Call me John?" he asked earnestly.

"Sure. John."

John walked her out of the children's department, and directed her to the lift instead of the stairwell. He ushered her in and then stopped it between floors. "I need to apologise to you, Rose. I have treated you badly. I have been rude and thoughtless and I'm sorry."

Rose stared at him for a moment and then swallowed hard. "Thank you John, I appreciate that very much. And, I suppose, well, I'm sorry I picketed your store and tried to mount a boycott. I'm obviously not good at rallying protestors," she smiled slightly and looked down. "I'm more sorry for how I treated you at Cafe Cosmos."

"Did I ruin your blind date?" he asked, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

"No, you didn't ruin it. I was stood up," she sighed. "He emailed me afterward. He got cold feet."

"Well I know one thing. You never should have worried that he showed up, saw you and thought you were ugly or something, because you're not. Ugly that is. You're very not ugly, in fact. Um . . ." he cleared his throat nervously.

"Thanks, I think," she blushed and smiled, looking down.

John pressed the button to resume lift service. The doors opened, and Rose walked out. John stayed inside, pressed the button for the level where the business offices were housed, and shoved his hands into his pockets, grinning madly.

As per her habit, the last thing Rose did before bed was check her e-mail one last time. There he was, just as she had hoped.

_Hello ShopGirl, I thought of you today. So how was the first day of the rest of your life? Did you sleep in? Did you lounge around in your jim jams? Did you watch too much telly and eat cereal for lunch? Whatever you did, I hope you are feeling better today than yesterday. Doctor10._

Rose read and re-read the email, and then hit reply.

_Hello Doctor10. I'm not quite sure how to describe today. On one hand, I felt rather sad for much of the day, but then, well, something happened. Something quite brilliant. For one thing, I stopped hating someone that I have held a grudge against for months now. Well, I can't really say 'hate' because I am not the sort of person who hates. Strongly dislike is a more like it. I think I was rather jealous of his person's success, if I am completely honest. I realised that this person is not responsible for the loss of my business after all. I visited his retail establishment hoping to despise it, and ended up falling in love. It is stunningly beautiful and just about perfect. I left the place in awe of him. Problem is, now that I don't have this person to despise anymore, what am I going to do with all of that energy that I had invested in being angry? When dislike turns into like, what do you do? ShopGirl_

John read the email and printed it off. He took it with him to bed and read it three times before turning out the light.

* * *

I am so happy that this story seems to have put a smile on people's faces! Thanks for the alerts and favorites!


	3. Chapter 3

**Who's Got Mail?**  
**Chapter 3 of 3**

John Wolfe stood at Rose Tyler's door holding a bouquet of daisies. He knocked, heard shuffling and then a sneeze, the rattling of a chain and finally the snick of the lock.

"Johb Bolfe? Whab are you doobing here?" Rose's nose was red, her eyes were bloodshot and her face, blotchy. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing an old blue and red striped man's dressing gown over flannel pyjamas dotted with moons and stars.

"I heard you were sick. I brought you flowers!" he said cheerfully, pushing his way into her flat without asking.

Rose quickly turned away and sneezed in the other direction. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. "I'b pretty sure I'b comtagious. You dob't wanna get sick." Her head was a little bit fuzzy from the cold medication, otherwise she probably wouldn't have let him in her flat in the first place.

He looked around, admiring the compact, though comfortable home that Rose had made for herself. He could tell that the well-worn furniture was from her parents's era, though there were modern touches here and there, such as hot pink, fuzzy throw pillows on the sofa and other trendy touches.

"Where's a vase?"

"On tob of the fridge," she said miserably, dropping onto the sofa, overcome with a coughing fit.

"I'll make you some tea." John walked into the kitchen and started poking through the cabinets without regard for privacy. He quickly found teabags and two mugs. He switched on the electric kettle. While the water was coming to a boil, he dropped the daisies into a green milk glass vase and carried it into Rose's bedroom.

Rose just sat on the sofa and dumbly watched him as he walked through her flat like he owned the place.

"Very nice flat. I like it." He heard the kettle switch off, so he prepared the tea. "Sugar? Milk?"

"One sugar, no bilk," she said, her pronunciation altered by her stuffy nose.

John handed her a mug and sat down in a chair next to the sofa.

"How'b you know I was sick?" she asked, sipping her tea.

"Lynda told me. Stress, Rose. Stress does terrible things to your immune system. You shouldn't worry so much. Do you have any strawberries, bananas and oranges about? Yogurt? Honey? I could make you a smoothie full of vitamins and antioxidants."

"Smoothie. Huh. Flowers . . . Lynda." She looked a bit loopy. "Why'd you come by again?" she asked, confused.

"Because I want to be your friend. Now come on, let's get you into bed." He looped his arm through hers and walked her into the bedroom, pulled back the covers and sat her down. She slipped under the duvet.

"Feel better, Rose Tyler," he said fondly.

"Thanbs for stobbing by." Rose's eyes were already closed, her head was turned to the side and she was nearly asleep.

John let himself out, making sure her door was secure.

oOo

_Dear Doctor10, _

_I am sorry I didn't email you last night. I've been sick. I took some new cold medicine that the chemist recommended that I will never ever touch again. My head felt like it was a balloon on a string bouncing around in the breeze. Ugh. I hate that feeling. I had an unexpected visitor yesterday afternoon. Sometimes a visit from a friend when you're sick is exactly what you need to get over the worst of it. I don't remember much of our visit, and for a while I thought it was a dream, but I know he was here because there is a cheerful vase of daisies sitting on my bedside table, just where I can see them. I've come to a decision. I'm going to go back to school. I want to learn everything there is to know about this here universe. What could be more exciting that learning new things? What do you think?_

_ShopGirl_

_Dear ShopGirl,_

_What's the rush coming to a decision? Take your time! You've been on the treadmill for a while now, right? You need to rest. You're probably sick from the stress of worry. I think you need to take some time for yourself. Do you like to travel? I love traveling. Sometimes I feel like I was meant to fly, not walk. I don't like to travel alone, though. Maybe we could travel together? It's so much better with two. I've always wanted to go to Barcelona. I like the way the word feels in my mouth. Say it with me. Bar-seh-looooohnuh._

_Doctor10_

_PS Good decision to go back to school. There is a whole universe out there just waiting to be discovered. Let's discover it together._

oOo

Rose sat at the high counter in the window of the Starbucks nearest her flat. She didn't drink coffee often, but she was very sleepy this morning. She had tossed and turned the night before, worrying about her future.

With her three shots of espresso and croissant in hand, Rose sat on a stool at the high counter which ran the length of the window. She pulled her tattered copy of _Rebecca_ from her rucksack and immersed herself in caffeine, flaky buttery goodness and the mystery within the walls of Manderlay. A rap on the window jolted her from the pages of her book, and she saw a smiling John Wolfe looking at her through the glass, beckoning her to come outside.

"Good morning Rose Tyler! Fancy bumping into you. Never figured you for a coffee achiever."

"'M not actually," she said, stifling a yawn. "But three shots of espresso pack the caffeine punch that I need to get myself going this morning."

"Why so tired?" he asked. He was genuinely concerned.

"I can't sleep. I lay awake every night worrying. Should I keep or sell the flat? Find an entry level, low paying job? I thought I had convinced myself to go back go school, but the thought of being tied down for the next five to ten years just frightens me. And then I start to wonder if I always be alone or . . ." she stopped herself, not intending to voice that particular concern. "Well anyway, I am giving myself one more week off to think about these things and then I'm going to force myself to make some decisions. My friend thinks that I am rushing things, that I should take even more time. He suggested traveling, which is easy for him to say. He's probably loaded, but I don't know if he realises that time and money are luxuries that I don't particularly have by the bucketful."

"Is that the friend who you were going to meet when I so rudely interrupted your evening?" asked John slyly.

"Yes," she replied slowly.

"So which bloke was he? Cape Man or Goth Boy?" His eyes sparkled as he teased.

She laughed. "I told you already, he stood me up."

"I'm sure he had a good reason," John suggested.

Rose just smiled, but didn't answer.

"Wanna see what's going on down at Portobello Market? I'm in the mood to dig through old stuff." John pushed a hand into his pinstriped trouser pocket and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I never would've figured you for the type of bloke who'd like rummaging through old stuff," she said with a laugh.

"Hey! I'm old. Nothing wrong with old," he said with mock affront. "I'm _ancient_, compared to you," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you like rummaging through old stuff?" he waggled his eyebrows and she snorted a laugh, bumping into his shoulder with her own.

They ambled through the eclectic Portobello market for the afternoon. John bought a bunch of exotic purple bananas, and Rose, a bouquet of daisies.

"You don't like roses, do you?" asked John as they stood at the flower stand.

"It's not that I don't like them, it's more that everyone expects me to like them, just because my Mum and Dad decided to call me Rose . . ." She said, knowingly. "Now daisies, look at these. They're simple and sweet and friendly. Daisies are my favourite flowers."

"Glad I didn't bring you roses when you were sick. Knew daisies were the right choice," he said. "Um, Rose, would you . . . would you mind if I bumped into you again sometime? Specifically tomorrow?"

"Well, okay. Yeah. Okay," she smiled and bumped his shoulder again, and wordlessly, he slipped his hand into hers.

Holding hands felt completely right.

oOo

_Dear ShopGirl,_

_Are you still interested in meeting? There's a project I'm working on that needs some jiggery-pokery, so I can't meet immediately, but how about meeting this Saturday at 4? Kensington Gardens, the Peter Pan statue. I'll bring K9._

_Doctor10_

oOo

John and Rose sat on a bench sharing a large cone of chips.

"He said he had a project that needed some jiggery-pokery," Rose told John.

"Jiggery-pokery? Hmm. That sounds to me like he's married, and he has to dump his wife."

"He is not married, and that was a terrible thing to say!" Rose said, aghast with her mouth full.

"How do you know?" John asked, pretending to be dubious.

"Because I asked him that question a long time ago. He had a girlfriend that he broke up with around the same time I dumped Jimmy." She stopped and looked down. "He also said he was not married _now_, but he had been married, and his wife had died years ago. That made me sad."

"Years ago? Those exact words?"

"Yeah. Years ago . . . what does that mean? Is five enough years to mean years ago?" Rose asked, suddenly concerned.

"No way. Years ago most definitely means decades. Multiple." He knew he probably shouldn't be using this tragic part of his life humorously, but he couldn't help it. It was too much fun to tease this girl.

"Multiple decades," she said breathily, looking straight ahead. "That's one hell of an age gap."

"You know, you've never told me how you met this so-called friend who stood you up?" asked John, changing the subject.

"Online." Rose nearly whispered her answer after waiting almost half a minute.

"Did you say online?" John asked with a look of surprise.

"Yes! Alright! I met him online!" she admitted loudly. "I'm a member of an online book club message board. We were discussing Wells's _The Time Machine_ and you know how those threads get off topic, and well, we sort of, well, hit it off," she explained like it was the most natural thing in the world. She dug into the cone and pulled out a fat piece of potato.

"What's his username?" John asked casually.

"Doctor10. And don't go Googling "Time Machine book club" to try and get his email address."

"Doctor10. Doctor10. Wonder what that means. Usernames are very personal. Very important, you know. What's yours?"

"ShopGirl."

"Perfect. To the point. Describes you concisely and accurately," he said, popping a chip into his mouth. "But Doctor10, that's kind of a mystery. You say he's a businessman. Why _Doctor_?" he asked with a frown. "Ten years of hard labour for falsely claiming to be a physician?"

"No," Rose replied. "Ten degrees, including a PhD, hence, doctor."

"Ten velour tracksuits and ten matching gold chains."

"Ten completed marathons," she countered.

"Ten laser treatments to remove the hair on his back, and now he feels indebted to his doctor." John reached into the cone and pulled out the last chip. He split it, and fed Rose one half. "Ten toupees. Ten days in Cardiff every summer. Ten—"

Rose roughly cupped her hand over his mouth to stop his gibbering. "Ten thousand insights into my heart!"

John gently removed her hand and held onto it. "Well now. Can't compete with that. That seals it. We'll never be together." He said melodramatically, and then became serious. "You know, sometimes I wonder, if you hadn't have been Shop Around the Corner, and I wasn't Wolfe's Books, and you and I had just met, like two normal people, I would've said how about some tea or chips for . . . as long as we both shall live?" He swallowed hard and searched her eyes for a sign of hope.

"John . . ." Rose shook her head, trying to stop him from continuing.

"And we would never have been at war, and the only thing we would have ever fought about was which movie to stream on Saturday night."

"We wouldn't have even fought about that," Rose replied breathlessly, shaking her head.

"No, you're right. Not us," he agreed. "If only . . ."

"I gotta go," Rose said nervously.

"Rose, how can you forgive this bloke for standing you up, but you can't forgive me for this tiny little thing like opening a bookshop in your neighborhood? I wish you would . . . "

"I really have to go." Rose walked away, but not without turning around twice to look back at John's sad eyes as he watched her walk away.

oOo

Rose stood nervously by the statue of Peter Pan, fiddling with her blue cardigan. She looked to the left and then to the right, scanning the pathway for any sign of the man she knew to be her soulmate.

And then she saw a perfectly trimmed Scottish Terrier running away from his master, his blue leash trailing behind, and she heard a voice, a familiar, wonderful voice calling after the dog. "K9! Stop running away from me!"

And there he was running after the fleeing dog. She put her hands to her mouth and then covered her eyes, and then her hands fell away. She was surprised, confused, joyful and even a little bit annoyed. How could he lie to her about this? All of that wasted time! But then she knew none of that was important. Everything else was eclipsed as love shined in her eyes. She let her feet fly to him, stopping just short of his reach.

"I wanted him to be you. I so wanted him to be you." She was crying now. She reached out her hand, as if to test if he were real, and not just an image.

"Don't cry ShopGirl, don't cry."

"My Doctor," she said under her breath.

"The universe won't collapse if you touch me," John replied, his voice strong enough for the two of them.

Hesitantly, she laid her hand on his chest. She felt the steady, strong thump-thump of his single heart beating only for her.

"I only have one life, Rose Tyler. I could spent it with you, if you want." He put his hand on her arm, and placed his mouth next to her ear, so that only she would hear his words. "I love you, ShopGirl."

Rose grabbed the lapels of his ever present pinstriped jacket, pulled her to him, and they kissed. And it was perfect. And they lived happily ever after.

The End

* * *

And so we come to end of this tale. I hope you enjoyed it. More Movie!Verse to come! Don't worry, I'm not blocked on Found & Forgotten. Working on it now!


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